


Mirror, Mirror

by AlexGabriel



Category: Love for the Cold-Blooded - Alex Gabriel
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mirror Universe, Superhero/Supervillain Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 05:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9056986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexGabriel/pseuds/AlexGabriel
Summary: Some things never changed. Sure, gamma ray particle gun accidents might throw you into a mirror universe, where your superhero billionaire genius of a boyfriend was not your boyfriend, and also not a superhero, and maybe not a billionaire (that part had yet to be determined). But. BUT.“Dark Warrior.” Pat could tell that his voice sounded rather more flat and distinctly less terrified and groveling than was appropriate at this juncture. He was currently occupying the position of helpless chained hostage in fetchingly torn clothing, and he wasn’t blind to tradition or anything, but – come on. “You did not just try to hold a threatening speech introducing yourself as Dark Warrior.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SugarGlassShards](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarGlassShards/gifts).



Some things never changed. Sure, gamma ray particle gun accidents might throw you into a mirror universe, where your superhero billionaire genius of a boyfriend was not your boyfriend, and also not a superhero, and maybe not a billionaire (that part had yet to be determined).

But. BUT.

“Dark Warrior.” Pat could tell that his voice sounded rather more flat and distinctly less terrified and groveling than was appropriate at this juncture. He was currently occupying the position of helpless chained hostage in fetchingly torn clothing, and he wasn’t blind to tradition or anything, but – come _on_. “You did not just try to hold a threatening speech introducing yourself as Dark Warrior.”

Yeah. Turned out Nick was just as lame even when dressed up in a skintight, shiny black suit, complete with silver-studded harness and broad tool belt bearing interesting shiny accessories. Pat wasn’t complaining about the suit, mind you. Nope, not complaining here, move along.

Dark Warrior (gods, Pat was embarrassed for every single version of Nick in the multiverse) blinked and frowned in a familiar perplexed and annoyed manner before rallying. His threatening glower was actually pretty good, complete with beetled brows and burning dark stare. He topped it off with an oldie, but goodie – shaking Pat a little and pushing him against the wall just hard enough to rattle, but not injure. Pat appreciated the difference, and also the encouraging sign of solid challenger technique.

“Indeed, mortal." Nick.2 had the voice down, too – dark and smooth and growly enough to make a shiver race through Pat's less highly evolved bits. It wasn't enough to make up for the naming misstep, but Pat was glad to see this wasn't a completely hopeless situation. "Tremble before –“

“Yeah, yeah, tremble, bow down, eternal serving heartyness, yadda yadda.” Pat waved his hands as much as he could, clinking the chains against the dank walls of the dungeon in the process.

He probably should have been more worried, all things considered. But the thing was: Despite the dude’s challenging ways, his love of fetish wear, and his questionable facial hair choices, he was still Nick. He moved the same, sounded the same. The corners of his eyes crinkled the same way when he glared in irritation; the hair fell over his forehead in the same attractively tousled way it always did when it grew slightly too long. He even smelled the same, fresh and warm with the barest hint of expensive aftershave layered over the subtle, inimitable scent of Nick. For all that he was a complete stranger, everything about him sang of familiarity, and there was no part of Pat that could believe he was a threat.

Even this: Chains, manacles and chaining up nubile virgins (ex-virgins, whatever) in dank dungeons. Honestly, it was so Nick. Pat might have known he’d be a traditionalist.

But anyway, Pat was trying to make a point here. The chain clinking had sounded suitably dramatic, so he did it again, only louder. “Look, bro. You can't call yourself Dark Warrior. That's just sad. You want your name to be unique and dramatic, fit to drive an ice-cold spike of fear through your victims' hearts at the mere mention! I mean, you want hoagies to start awake in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, and your name on their lips. Right?"

Dark Nick gave Pat a piercing stare that seemed to be simultaneously trying to determine what manner of unfamiliar form of life he was, and to incinerate him where he hung. It was kind of sexy, probably because at this point, Pat had basically been Stockholmed into finding all typical Nick expressions sexy, even when the face they were currently displayed on was only kind of the right one.

"Not that it's any of your business, captive," Nick Lite intoned sonorously, putting heavy emphasis on the 'captive' and speaking as slowly and clearly as though dealing with a concussed duckling. "But you are grievously mistaken. Far and wide, the name Dark Warrior inspires cowering terror."

It wasn't exactly the done thing to argue with a challenger's basic branding right in the middle of their scheme, but Pat couldn't help it. This was _Nick_ , even if it was Nick in a weird ass-backwards way, wearing incredibly distracting, clingy latex. Latex that – incidentally – did really interesting things to the long muscles of his thighs, lovingly hugged his well-defined abs, and molded closely to his –

Darth Nick said "ahem". He said it out loud – didn't clear his throat, just said "ahem" like a giant loser. Who was definitely not wearing underwear.  

Pat forced his gaze up front and center and cleared his throat like a non-loser, collecting his scattered thoughts. What had he just been thinking...? Oh, right – saving clueless Latex Nick from himself.  Clearly, any version of Nick was hopeless without Pat there to provide helpful pointers from time to time.

"You know what a lame-ass name like Dark Warrior inspires?" Dark Nick – being a Nick – immediately drew breath to reply, like it hadn't been completely obvious Pat's pause was for dramatic effect only. Pat made emphatic cutting gestures across his throat, chains clinking wildly, and quickly forged on.  "Yawns, dude! That's what! Not to mention, when people hear you've done something or other, the first thing they're gonna have to do is go through their mental index of all the other lame-ass losers  with no imagination or sense of drama. I mean, Midnight Warrior, Crimson Warrior, Dark Knight, White Knight, Dark Star, Dark Sky, Dark Sun, Dark Who the Fuck Cares! If you have one of those fancy tricked-out cars, I bet you call it Dark Car or Dark Transport or something super sad like that."

Darth Nick's face had been growing increasingly dark (hah) as Pat presented his argument, but he hadn't tried to interrupt again; had even stepped back to cross his arms in front of his chest in another typical Nick gesture, clearly prepared to give Pat all the rope he needed to hang himself. (Pat almost didn't notice at all what kind of near-pornographic things happened to his latex-encased shoulders, and arms, and chest.)

"You might as well call yourself Hot Fetish Man, given the outfit." Okay, so he probably shouldn't have said that aloud, but whatever. It was true enough. "Or, I dont know, Clueless Ghost Matter Fan. Or –”

Hot Fetish Nick's gaze sharpened, and he was suddenly very near, all searing focus and looming menace. “How do you know I like Ghost Matter?”

It was a moment before the meaning of the words penetrated to Pat's higher brain functions. Pat felt this was understandable, given the velvet-smooth steel of Nick.2's growl and his sudden, knee-weakening intensity and closeness.

When Pat's brain finally caught up to current events, it was like being dunked in cold water.

No way. Seriously? This stayed the same? Everything else changed, but freaking _Ghost Matter_ stayed the same?

Pat allowed himself a moment of dramatic despair, complete with slumping in his chains in what he hoped was a suitably attractive manner. After a moment, he even remembered to shrug the torn remains of his t-shirt off one shoulder, subtly flexing his muscles as he did so. He was gratified to see that Darth Nick's gaze lingered on his chest for a flatteringly prolonged instant.

“Okay, dude." It was a good thing that gamma ray particle gun had exploded in Pat's face, really. This man needed serious help. "We gotta do something about this tragic lameness you got going on. So listen up, henceforth you will be know as… ta-dah! The Sable Paladin.“

Turned out this version of Nick did the incendiary gaze thing even better than the original heroic flavor. Maybe it was the goatee.

It was actually pretty hot, even if Pat so wasn’t going there. He was very happily taken, thank you, not to mention that he wasn’t the kind of sleazeball who’d try to justify cheating on his boyfriend with some lame-ass excuse about the guy in question technically actually being his boyfriend, if from a parallel universe. There was a rule in the West Sibling Dating Handbook and everything.

Nobody said he couldn't give tips for the good of everyone, though. And since Sable Paladin insisted on wearing fetish gear (which – for the record – Pat was still not complaining about)... “Dread Lord Sable Paladin, might I humbly suggest adding an abs window to your fearful outfit? You know, to, uh, intimidate and or distract your enemies, whichever most applies?”

This was the moment in which the other end of the dank dungeon (TM) broke apart with a melodious chime of windbells and a sudden light breeze that carried the scent of lavender and burning rubber. A rift opened from floor to ceiling, edges pulsing with blue light. For a second or two it showed only a narrow sliver of color and movement; then, it exploded outwards to swallow the entire far side of Sable Nick's dungeon set-up, replacing it by a slice of familiar homey, well-lit laboratory with Nick – Nick! The real one, the original flavor, Pat's very own Nick! – front and center.

Pat was so glad to see him he actually thought he might cry. Sable Nick was pretty enough to look at and all, but it just wasn't the same, and Pat hadn't even realized how much being around the knock-off version had made him miss the real thing. Not the real thing in the universe Pat currently occupied, obviously, but the real thing in the universe that was most real for Pat, which was his own, logically enough.

His Nick was scowling and gorgeous and very clearly incredibly pissed off, which only made him hotter. He was wearing the Silver Paladin quantum armor without the helmet, and held a device that looked sort of like a rocket launcher, if rocket launchers came in portable versions that connected to portals to other universes with tendrils of blue glowy energy.

"Ni- Silver Paladin!" Pat's voice was a bit unsteady, but that was okay – it fit the situation. He was still being the helpless nubile not-quite-virgin, after all, and here was the handsome hero come to rescue him. "Save me! Sable Paladin has abducted me and chained me up in his dungeon!" All of which was abundantly obvious already, of course, but Pat felt he had strayed from tradition more than enough for one challenger scheme.  He was going to play it by the book for the rest of the rescue, complete with falling into the hero's arms and giving him a grateful kiss. (To start. The night was young, and Pat had really missed Nick and his dumb gorgeous face and –)

"Sable Paladin?" A guy stepped into sight next to Nick – a guy in a tight, sparkly red and silver outfit that clung strategically to his shoulders, hips and thighs, topped off with a high-collared cape and a horrible haircut. "Nonsense. Whatever lies he has been telling you, this foul villain is none other than Dark Warrior."

Pat stared at the dude for a long moment, the sight refusing to compute.

No way. Pat's nose was not that pointy, and he did not stand all hip-cocked, posing like a douche, and he definitely did not have that kind of stupid-ass pseudo-military hair, so short it had almost no curl left and made his ears stick out. And – his face was all glittery. Was he wearing _body glitter_?

"I am rebranding," Sable Paladin said, with the suspicious kind of Nick blandness that meant he was making fun of you, and didn't think you were going to notice. "Do try to keep up, Scarlet Serpent."

_Scarlet Serpent?_

Pat’s distress must have been obvious, because Nick started forward instantly, looking ready to murder his counterpart with his bare hands. The arcs of energy connecting his portal gun to the portal flexed and sparked, but did not break even as he leaped through into the dungeon, his form outlined by blinding energy for one breathtaking moment.

Scarlet Pat leaped through the portal after him and immediately drew himself up to puff out his chest like a rooster, pointing at Dark Nick with one gloved hand. It looked as though he'd practiced the move in the mirror. (Pat had the sinking feeling that it didn't just look that way, and tried hard not to remember the very few times he himself might have practiced certain expressions in certain reflective surfaces. It was different, okay? It just was.)

"We have run you to ground in your foul lair, Dark Warrior," declared Hoagie Pat in a sonorous, carrying stage voice. "You shall not escape justice this time! Free your innocent victim at once, vile creature, and prepare to suffer the righteous wrath of Scarlet Serpent and Silver Paladin!"

"Oh my gods," whimpered Pat, overcome. How could his own counterpart be so much less cool than Nick's? This just wasn't fair!

"Are you okay? Has he hurt you in any way?" Nick was there, wonderful Nick, who tore open his forged iron manacles as though they were no more substantial than cardboard. He'd been upgrading the Paladin suit again, looked like. "Because if he has –"

"Hey, no, it's cool, we're good. We're buddies. He's been a perfect gentleman." Pat caught a glimpse of Sable Nick's stunned blink over Real Nick's shoulder before being bundled off towards the portal, which was now starting to pulse in a rhythmic, not entirely reassuring way. "He's you, you know? Except not. But he's a cool dude, plus I kinda like his challenging style – except for some minor issues, but I got him sorted. Anyway. We got along great. You didn't have to worry."

Serpent Douche winked and grinned at Pat as Nick hurried him by, turning to give him a surreptitious thumbs-up and an eyebrow waggle. Pat just stared at him, and – hold on. The shiny stuff on his face wasn't body glitter at all. No way, were those scales?

Jumping through the portal sent a tingle through his whole body and made him gasp and catch his breath. By the time he'd gathered himself enough to turn, the portal had already begun to shrink, the window into Dark Nick's dungeon growing smaller and smaller. Its rim was glowing noticeably less bright, and the energy arcs to Nick's gun blinked out one by one, until the gun was dark and inert.

"Ghost Matter, really?" shouted Pat, because it had to be said.

Sable Paladin and Serpent Dude didn't seem to hear. They were facing off in the dungeon, assuming the classic poses of Challenger Run to Ground and Morally Outraged Hoagie – ahem, Hero.

"I gather they are nemeses." Nick sounded as though the words tasted bad in his mouth.

Huh. Pat wasn't really sure how he felt about that – he'd have to let it sink in for a while.

The portal had now closed almost completely, its electric glow fading to a shimmer. Pat could see the barest hint of rapid motion in the dungeon beyond, backlit by an intermittent bright flash, as of power being thrown back and forth.

"So what am I like as a hoagie?" Damn it, he'd asked. He hadn't meant to ask – it was just, well. He knew Nick was happy to be with him, but the man still hadn't given up on trying to convert Pat to the hoagie cause. What if he'd compared this other, heroic Pat to the non-heroic Pat he was stuck with in this universe, and his own Pat (namely _Pat_ ) came up wanting?

"Heroic." There was an almost pained note in Nick's voice, and Pat turned away from the last glimpse of their counterparts in favor of searching his expression. Nick looked pale – tired, Pat guessed, from working obsessively on designing an intra-dimensional portal. But there were also steel-cold edges of a hard, stony calm that had yet to thaw; the kind of calm that was really anything but. And there was something in the remote, stoic Nick way he held himself, in the way he was staring at Pat, drinking him in, standing close but not quite touching...

"He wasn't you." It came out softly, but with bedrock certainty – the most damning judgement Nick could think to give. The small seed of apprehension in Pat's heart died, stamped out by the simple straightforwardness of the answer. 

"Yeah," Pat said, just as softly. "Back atcha, bro. Same with Darth Nick."

Why exactly was there no touching going on, anyway? That was definitely not on. And wasn't it high time for that kiss?

"Guess you saved me, huh." Pat stepped in close and grinned as obnoxiously as he could, which was plenty obnoxious. Nick's hands came up to rest at his waist, and something wound up tight and tense in Pat released at the touch, flooding through him as joy and relief and welcome. "Want to claim your reward?"

He was already halfway through waggling his eyebrows suggestively when he remembered how dumb that move had looked on Serpent Douche's face. Well, screw that guy anyway – Nick didn't like him, so bully for Pat. He gave the dude the mental middle finger and waggled his eyebrows again, just because he could. Nick looked both reluctantly charmed and slightly incredulous (probably at being reluctantly charmed, or maybe at Pat's very existence, whichever).

Pat so won at universe-hopping. Booyah.

"Never touch my prototypes again, you idiot," Nick growled much later.

"Make less cool prototypes then, dude," Pat shot back. "And by the way. How d'you feel about an upgrade to the Paladin suit? I might have an idea or two."

 


End file.
